Games Master Angst

1. a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general.

2. informal: a feeling of persistent worry about something trivial.

1920s: from German, ‘fear’.

Angst is a good word for what I sometimes feel about being Games Master: a feeling of persistent worry, anxiety or dread; it is unfocused and about my hobby, not so much about the state of the world (although, I certainly feel angst about that too).

Having felt that feeling last night and into this morning, I’ve been pondering the coping mechanisms by which I seek (and fail less frequently) to control this angst. I wonder if talking about this might be helpful to someone else but, honestly, I’m typing by way of coping with the feeling this afternoon. Selfish, huh?

Three Big Causes of Games Master Angst

Thinking about the angst that Games Mastering gives me it falls into three broad categories:

Fear about the choice of game I’m running.

Worry about the quality of game experience players are getting from me.

Fear that gamers in the group will stop attending.

Those three things are interlinked, by the way, and triggering one of those issues tends to spiral my thinking into the other two… but it is always one of those three that starts the cycle.

Fear about the choice of game…

This one arises from my personal interest in the thousands of roleplaying games that have been written over the past 40 years or so. In short, there are so many that I worry about having chosen the “right” game.

Triggers include picking up a game that I enjoy reading, hearing about a great game experience using different game system, and advertising / promotion about cool games that I’d like to try.

Obviously, it’s helpful to leave the hundreds of games I own on the shelf or filed in my Dropbox. Avoiding reading other games is a good strategy for avoiding this angst… but it’s not practical because you need to read good stuff to inspire your good games. If you don’t read, you’ll trigger the second worry (below)… so, it’s not really practical to not read. I like reading, after all.

Once triggered, the best strategy is to look again at what you love about the game you are running. You can also hone in on reasons why you aren’t running the game that triggered the angst – usually easy enough, as all games are flawed in some way. And that’s why looking again at what you love about the game you are running is dangerous: you might notice one of the inevitable flaws.

Logically, this is silly… but this is not about logic and reason: it’s angst. Emotion. Powerful, driving self-doubt.

Worry about the quality of the game…

This one arises when self-doubt about either what you’ve prepped (or failed to prep) kicks in, or about the apparent response of the players to what you just ran / are running strikes you. It happens before the game when I worry about being prepared to run a fun game; it strikes during the game when a player (and it only takes one) seems disengaged; and it comes afterwards when people are either openly critical about something in the game, or (oddly) say nothing much, or even when you perceive positive feedback to be a platitude. Yes, that means it happens before, during, and after most sessions… and the players are probably going to trigger it, one way or another.

Strategies include reminding yourself that you are good at improvising, making sure you have some reasonable written notes, and telling yourself that you can’t please all the people all of the time. I find that blithely ignoring instances of players phone-checking or talking off topic is helpful – I literally block it out and ignore it. I find that asking for the one best thing from tonight’s game is also useful for getting some positive feedback.

Again, it’s silly. Reading that back, it looks like naked narcissism to expect anything less than normal human responses to a gaming session. And – remember – it’s “only a game”, right? Bollocks. It’s everything when you’re the Games Master. It’s your heart and soul. The prep time matters. It all matters. This is angst.

Fear that the gamers will stop coming…

Even writing this post triggers the fear… geez, who’s going to want to game with a Games Master who lacks self-confidence?

This one is about the every session struggle to put at least two bums on the seats at your table. That’s my current minimum standard, by the way: two players. It used to be three or four. Once upon a time it was five or six. Whatever. This is the angst talking.

Triggers include the reminder text / email you send out a few days (or even hours) before the game. Organising the game pretty much triggers this one, folks. But it also arises when you read modules designed for “6-8 characters” or some Games Master advice about how most other GMs get 4-6 players at the table. Or whatever else brings up the questions about why you “only have two/three guys at your table”.

Strategies include reminding yourself of the reasons why your friends can’t attend – you know, all the logical stuff about being adults now, with jobs and families. And you remind yourself that it’s better to have fewer people you like (nay, even people you love) at the table than to go back to the days of allowing any old arsehole person to play.

What To Do?

Honestly, I’m not a psychologist and I don’t have the answers to this angst. If I did, I wouldn’t be writing this post.

That said, I don’t think there’s much to be done except remember three truths:

The game you choose is just that: a choice; a game.

You’re doing the best you can; that’s enough.

If you’ve got any bums on those seats, you’re getting a game; that’s enough.

Like the angst, these three truths are inter-linked and they reinforce each other. Try not to forget them.

It’s a choice about a game…

The angst wants you to doubt that you made the “right” choice. There is no “right” choice in an objective sense. There are many games and you make a choice. You can choose differently, but you didn’t… and changing your mind is going to cause the cycle of angst to spiral down.

My advice: make a choice, preferably with the help of your players, based on the type of game that you want to run right now. Play the game until either the “story” finishes… or everyone feels it’s over. Then make another choice – maybe even the same choice – and start a new game.

I find these words helpful:

“Before anything else, the GM should choose the players. The mix of players will make or break the experience. Then the GM should think of a setting he would like to Gamemaster and see if the players share that interest…. Then he chooses a game system.” (Brian Jamison, Gamemastering, pp.12-13)

This is helpful because it reminds you of what makes roleplaying games tick: players, setting, and the rules… in that order. Never forget: the rules are the means to the end – having fun with some good people in an interesting fantastic setting.

Do the best you can…

Prep the game and play it. Do the best you can. Learn from the things that don’t go to plan. Commit to improving one thing at a time. Repeat.

Do the best you can, Games Master. Remember that if they can do better, the players are welcome to prep and run the game instead. Most don’t. Many don’t have the confidence to try. They don’t know that it’s really about doing the best that you can.

It’s that simple. Not that simple was ever easy, by the way… but it’s simple. You prep the game and play it. Do the best you can. Learn from the things that don’t go to plan. Commit to improving one thing at a time.

Getting a game is enough…

I want to avoid getting into a big discussion on the demographics of gamers, the difficulties of meeting face-to-face with players, and all the other reasons why people don’t play games. My point is simple: if anyone comes to play, you guys get a game. As long as the game was basically fun, you all win. That is enough.

We play games to have fun. Social games are about having fun with other people. If you’ve got some people in the room playing a game with you, if you’re having fun… you win! Remember: if you’re playing, you’re doing better than when you’re not playing.

There’s a reason why those guys are sitting at your table. If you don’t know what their reasons are… dude, ask them. Trust them. Honestly, nobody will turn up if your game is no fun.

And all those logical reasons people give for not being able to come? Yeah, you need to trust that they’re telling you the truth. Who the crap is going to lie about this stuff? Seriously. People have lives. It’s a game.

Remember three truths:

The game you choose is just that: a choice; a game.

You’re doing the best you can; that’s enough.

If you’ve got any bums on those seats, you’re getting a game; that’s enough.

2 Thoughts on “Games Master Angst”

Although it is upsetting to know that a friend is suffering this multi-tiered angst, I’m also glad that it has been said and expressed so clearly.

Having experienced angst from the player’s side it’s strangely reassuring, or at least mollifying to know that others at the table worry about similar things and I believe the main thing it shows is in fact not neuroticism or narcissism, but plain ‘giving a sh*t’ about the games you’re playing and the people you’re playing those games with.

The angst can be truly crippling and lead to players giving off unintended signals to the others at the table, and with the GM as focal point, they are naturally going to feel those swings of mood, attitude, attendance, fun etc more than most. I’d be amazed if they didn’t.
It shows that you care a great deal.

The use of the word love was not unnoticed, as there is a real love of roleplay that brings us to the table again and again. As you so rightly point out, it’s about a social dynamic of people meeting to have fun, especially in a collaborative environment that makes roleplay such a rich experience.
When it can be so good and especially when we have golden memories of past experiences, it becomes one of the most powerful drugs available to man: peer appreciation, commonality, community, respect, support and an art form also.

There is a huge amount of pressure on the GM to perform and (s)he relies massively on the oft lazy players to make it viable, reassuring and fun for them. To justify all that work and preparation, not just for the love of the game, but for that social experience that brings us back to the table.
Part of my own angst is grounded in the feeling of owing the other players more. Mostly a sense of owing the GM more in return for all that they provide, wishing I could lift some of that burden while feeling impotent to do much.

I’ve read many UbiRat articles and those of others on how the players can do more to make it easier, richer and more enjoyable, yet it’s so easy to not ‘do your best’ and simply pitch up to roll dice.
When we just pitch up to roll dice it’s not fair on the others and it isn’t fun for any of us. I’ve experienced this directly.

As UbiRat says it’s about having fun in the company of friends, the setting and system are functions toward achieving that goal.

Player angst can act as a barrier to achieving the basic goals inherent in ‘fun’ play. It’s up to us to challenge it,